


gazing at a cloudy sky (noses full of gunpowder)

by dullrockets



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Rants, Realistic Minecraft, Suicidal Thoughts, except its just wilbur in like two lines, mild disassociation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dullrockets/pseuds/dullrockets
Summary: tommy drives, and sits, in the middle of nowhere.techno sits, in the middle of nowhere, with him.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	gazing at a cloudy sky (noses full of gunpowder)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gremlin_rights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlin_rights/gifts).



> this fic is set in the dsmp, but not really dsmp?? its realistic minecraft and the only thing it references is wilbur being dead 
> 
> tw/cw: mild disassociation, and there's one line about suicide if you squint
> 
> disclaimer: if any of the creators mention they are uncomfortable with these types of fics, i will take this down.

The van — _Camarvan, that’s what Wilbur called it_ — smelled of weed and gunpowder and all the things Tommy hated. Still, though, his hands turned the key sideways in the ignition. This car was so old, he really should just get a new one, he has the money _somewhere_ — And the car lit up, buttons and wheels that probably were like a thermometer for cars glowed, flickering every so often. 

The lights dimmed ever so slightly, and he figured he was the only one that could tell. He was the only one there, anway, so he didn’t really know what he was thinking. Of _course_ he’d be the only one to tell. No one was with him. Why was no one with him? 

He’d remembered inviting Tubbo along. And Ranboo, too, though he wasn’t sure if he remembered at all. Did Tubbo say no? That must be why he’s alone, driving down the street on a cloudy night where he couldn’t see any stars, nor the moon. Just dark gray clouds against the sky.

Tommy was so confused. He shouldn’t be driving, really, but something about this just urged him to keep on going. He wasn’t high, as far as he could tell, and he wasn’t sad at all before. But, soon enough, after around five minutes — he checked his phone for Discord notifications, and there were none — he pulled over.

He was in a field, it seemed, one he didn’t remember ever being at before. His heavy, fast breathing that made him slow down when he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt slowed to a stop. He didn’t remember ever breathing so fast, especially not this night. 

It was supposed to be a calm night. He and Tubbo and Ranboo were going to sit on the roof of his late brother’s dirty old van and watch the stars, cause it wasn’t cloudy, out in the country.

Why did he forget? How did the time go by so fast? He pulled out his phone, again, and his fingers pressed the cold phone screen like a lifeline, typing in the password maybe three times, from spelling errors. He swiped to the second page of apps, opening the top right one, Discord, to message, well, someone.

He didn’t want to message Sam, or Puffy, or Phil, or even _Tubbo_ . He wanted someone who wouldn’t pester him about what was wrong. He wanted someone who understood, but didn’t ask. Was that impossible? Was he asking for something he could never have, to get his hopes up?   
  
He flipped through his friends list, before locking eyes with _one_ , one friend who was on do not disturb, and his eyes widened, maybe in excitement, and maybe in terror. He tapped the call button just after, not thinking twice. The ringtone went on repeat two times, before his friend picked up.

“ _Hello? Tommy, what, it’s three am. You’re lucky I’m up._

_…_

_Tommy? Hello? I swear, if this is a prank call_ -”

He sighed in relief, looking at his own profile picture, turning green at just his breathing.

“Hey, Technoblade.”

“ _Why’d you call? I mean, aren’t we, like, enemies? You did betray me._ ”

“I don’t- I don’t care, not right now. Can you come, to, uh-” He exited the app, frantically, searching for Google Maps in his phone, and opening that, instead, “Negative three thousand, uh, and the Z ones are positive two hundred. I don’t think the Y really matters, right?”

“ _Well. I guess Carl could use a walk. Fine, I’m coming. Don’t waste my time, though. Please._ ”

Tommy waited, for five minutes, then ten more. He assumed Techno was coming as fast as possible, so he just kept looking at the stars, and waiting for tears that never came.

  
He kind of wanted it to be like the movies. A big, dramatic scene where he burst into cries and sobs and the Blade came to comfort him. But, no. He looked fine. He sounded fine. He wasn’t fine.

_This is how life works_ , he thinks to himself. He wants the comfort he’ll never get because he’s a happy teenager living the life that never cries.

He doesn’t think he’ll make it to his eighteenth birthday, at this point. What, with every other night ending up with his screams echoing throughout the cold, dirt-and-stone cave he slept in. What, with how he never smiled the way he used to, the way he cried for Wilbur in the late hours of the night.

He could go on. He decided not to. He could hear galloping, and if he squinted, a figure a little lighter than the rest of the inky sky surrounding them could be seen. Waits fifteen more seconds, and he could see the figure’s face, and their long hair wrapped in a ponytail. It was Techno. Of course it was.

He’d asked him to come, after all. He slumped further against the metal of the van, most of his torso either on the ground or being backed against the air instead. 

“Tommy?”

  
Oh. Techno was in front of him, now. He should’ve realized that time was passing, he usually loved to obsess over the stopwatch app and see the seconds tick by. He supposed things change. He was right.

“Hey, Techno.”

“Why’d you need me? Did you get lost? You- _We_ , now, are kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“I don’t know.”

“So can I go back?”

“Please don’t,” A much, much smaller voice answered.

So Techno grabbed a lead, from his inventory, and tied Carl to the Camarvan. Giving him a bit of leeway, of course. Then, he sat down. Next to Tommy.

Tommy managed a simple, weak smile. Techno smiled back.

“You smell like gunpowder.”

“It’s the van,” He nodded back a bit, and his — was he a brother? an enemy? They never thought of each other as one, not really, but he felt like it fit — friend nodded in understanding. “Do you like it? The smell.”

“Not really, nah.”

“I don’t either.”

“It just smells off.”

“It smells like Wilbur, Techno. You know it.”

A nod. An unspoken language, that neither of them fully understood, telling him to continue.

“You don’t want to admit it. But it's true.”

Another goddamn _fucking nod_. It’s taunting him, egging him on. Daring him to keep going. It’s working, too, and he’s never hated himself more.

“It- It smells like death, and insanity, and _blood_ becuase blood smells like gunpowder because it’s there every fucking time someone dies on this server. With- With Tubbo, and fireworks, and the war, and the other war, and the _other other war,_ cause that’s how many fucking wars I’ve _been_ in!”

He’s seething, and Techno’s staring at him, silent, and he hates him for it, because he isn’t doing _anything_. He’s being calm, and not disagreeing with him, and it's driving him insane within moments. He’s supposed to fight, to be violent, to kill him, and so is Tommy, for god's sake, ‘cause that's how he grew up.

“And- And it’s your fault. Well, not really, but, it just _has to be_. I’m- I’m not mad. But, like, I am. I’m not mad at you, I guess. I’m pissed that you killed Tubbo. But I’m also pissed Tubbo tried to kill you. Not that it was his fault. Same with you.

I can’t _not_ be violent, Techno. I- I just don’t know how you manage, with retirement and shit. I am fuckin’ bloodthirsty, y’know? Sometimes, I just want the world to burn. Does that make me selfish?”

Techno doesn’t speak, again, but this time he shakes his head, just a little. Barely even noticeable. That calms Tommy down, a tad, to know he’s comprehending his words, and that Tommy’s actually speaking and this isn’t just an argument he made up in his head to feel better.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I’m trying, trying _so_ hard to not, like, start a war. Hah. It’s hard. It shouldn’t be. It’s so, so fucking hard. Every time I see a newly built house, or, like, an event popping up, I just want to ruin it. I want to take the stage and scream at them until they understand.

…

Heh. That’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it? Rambling to, like, a wall. Well, you’re not a wall. You just aren’t objecting. That feels wrong. You should be screaming at me, telling me to die like a hero.”

He lets out a shaky breath, but no tears come rolling down. They stay cemented in their spots.

“I don’t want to be a hero. I don’t want to be the anti-hero, or the villain, or anything. I don’t want to be any of your stupid fucking myths. Theseus is a shit name, anyway.

I want to be Tommy. I want to, so hard, and I _can’t_ . ‘Cause I don’t know how to be me. But, like, a me that I like. I want to be good, someone people can _tolerate_ , and not that one selfish prat everybody hates.”

Techno grunts, softly, and Tommy is tempted to scream. To shut him up, or something. After thinking about it once over, twice over, thrice over, he doesn’t know why he even thought about screaming in the first place. So he doesn’t.

“People think I don’t hear them. Niki and Jack are going for my throats. They think I don’t know, that I’m not smart enough to connect the dots. I am. I was the one that led the revolution, eh? Well, technically it was Wilbur, but I was the head soldier. General, or some shit.”

Techno nods, like he has for the millionth time — it was probably the second, maybe third, but he hated repetitions. Maybe he didn’t, though, and just wanted an excuse to bithc on Techno. He wouldn’t know.

“It’s only been, like-” He checked his phone, quickly, to see the time blaring at him in bold white, “-fifteen minutes. ‘M sorry. Again. I didn’t want to waste your time.”

Finally, _finally_ , he speaks. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry.” And he patted his own lap, and Tommy’s eyes sparkled, for a split second, and he crawled the three crawl-steps over to him and dumped his head in his lap.

Tommy felt free. Tommy felt so, _so_ free, wrapped in Techno’s cloak, encased in his arms. And, after weeks of trying to cry, a single tear rolled down his cheeks. Then another, and another. He expected it to be louder, really, but quiet sobs and Techno, his enemy, his friend, his brother, murmured comforts into his ear. And that’s all he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> hppy valentine day kichi :]


End file.
